You Know I'm No Good
by ZanNaz
Summary: Chuck/Blair. Mega Fluff. A series of interconnected one-shots over the course of their relationship and into the future. Based off 1x13. Slightly AU.
1. Wounds for words

A/N: Hey guys! Okay so basically this takes place a little bit after 1x13 "thin line between Chuck and Nate" and I'm thinking of doing a series of interconnected fluff one-shots over the course of CB's relationship with this. If I continue it'll probably be slightly AU. Review if you have some time. Happy reading!

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Fluttering Butterflies.

Blair stood on the balcony, alone as she felt, the wind carrying strands of hair across her pale face. Her index finger sat on the touchpad of her phone, lightly grazing the keys.

Her stomach was in knots. It had been mere hours since the news blast on Gossip Girl and she was left shamed behind the walls of her Upper East Side penthouse, crying and drinking a bottle of Eleanor's vintage French wine. She had hoped it would make her feel more sophisticated but it only helped to solidify the truth that clung to her shoulders.

She was a cheap whore.

She _should _call Serena ... curl up and watch breakfast at Tiffany's, volley hatred back and forth with stale excitement ... but she just didn't feel like doing what was expected of her.

Blair wet her lips with the fruity taste of sour grapes, lifting the phone into her palm. The screen lit up, the only light beneath the glory of the night sky, the glistening stars obscured by pale grey clouds.

Scrolling through the contacts she frowned, what was to become of her and Nate? He wouldn't even look at her now. The cursor remained on his name, the four letters forming a boy who had never been able to commit anything but his weak words.

Their love almost seemed a ragged idea. It was a fairytale she had wished into existence left hollow of all meaning, the promises built up in earnest now broken into dust.

She closed her eyes, listening intently to the hum of the city, trying to draw calm from the sounds. Chuck's image sat in the darkness as he watched her lips drip down Nate's neck, the ruffles of her dress as she led his best friend into an empty bedroom.

Still, he had no right to ruin everything. Dread washed over her at the thought of school on Monday morning. In her entire life she had never been more embarrassed. Charles Bass or not, he would pay.

Butterflies fluttered, thrashing into her ribs at the thought of his name. Blair turned, pocketing her cell phone as she wandered back into the house. She felt like she might be sick.

This thing - whatever it was, felt as though it wouldn't surmount to anything beyond the dreamy film of impossible. It was easy to loathe him, the disgusting league of one-night stands and trashy woman he showcased. She was the golden girl, Chuck was the bad boy and not the secretly-good-bad-boy-who-everyone-hated-to-love - he truly was the stupid Basshole, the core of everything she had stood against since forever.

But she still reacted the same way ... like an idiot in lo-- severe like. Whatever. He had betrayed her, taken the game too far, she didn't need him, she didn't need anyone.

This was her life and she could do what she wanted regardless of the rumors, the pictures, a certain gossip girl. Nothing had kept her from rising up, not Serena nor Nate and now neither would Chuck.

She was Blair Waldorf for fuck sakes!

With this thought fresh in her mind she trailed towards the stairs, pulling her hair into a bun. The echo of the elevator as the doors opened rang in her ears. She stopped instinctively on the second step, her heart hammering.

He walked quietly towards her, his loafers barely audible against the marble floor. She narrowed her eyes, prepared to fight as she turned, resting her palm on her hip.

"How dare you show your face here," She warned, "get out!" She scanned the foyer for Dorota, whatever corner she was hiding in. No luck.

Chuck swayed on his feet; his cheeks flush as he stood there. "Blair ..." He mumbled, "Blair -"

"What?" She edged, "Didn't you hear me? I don't want you here Chuck. I don't want to see you, I don't want anything to do with you. Get. Out."

"So what," He spat, his burning gaze on her face, "You can be mad at me for this when you did so much worse?"

She looked away, focusing on anything but his face. The sadness in his eyes as he watched her, it was a part of him she wasn't used to witnessing.

"What do you care Bass?" The black eye Nate had given him a few days prior stood fresh on his skin. A battle wound as far as she was concerned, he completely deserved it.

"Don't pull this bullshit on me Blair," He growled. "I know you're angry at me but you slept with both of us on the same day. Just like the vendictive little bitch you are."

She wanted to slap him. "Chuck leave now," Her tone was cold and serious, "before I call security." She wasn't going to listen to his insults anymore, let him stand there feigning apology, drunk enough to actually show up on her doorstep.

He bent his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes. "No - I didn't mean that. I meant -- I don't know what this is." He took a step towards her, "I don't know what we are but it's real and I don't how to handle it. I haven't had these ... feelings ..." The word rolled off his tongue begrudgingly, "for anyone before. I'm sorry ..."

Blair stood there, her mouth open slightly as he turned to leave. The apology uttered was thick in the air, breathable. She didn't know what to do with it. Chuck Bass never apologized because he never admitted fault, not even when he had stuck bubblegum in her hair in second grade.

This was ... admitting to his flaw. It was then that she realized she might not get the theatrical moment. The movie of her life might not play out exactly like Roman Holiday or Breakfast at Tiffany's but they were ultimately separated by what was staged and what wasn't.

This was real. All Chuck could give her were the butterflies that danced in her stomach, the sprout of something more than anything Nate could even have imagined but it was so much more than anything anyone had offered.

And it was enough for her.

Blair quickly jumped to the floor, quickening her pace as she closed the distance between them. Chuck's back was towards her as he waited for the elevator to make it's way to the top floor.

She tapped him on the shoulder, smiling as he turned. He was stiff and unsure, not quite absorbing the situation, the switch in mood.

Then, in one swift movement Blair caught his lips in hers, winding her arm over his coat and around his neck. "Apology accepted," She whispered.

The elevator doors slid open and she cocked an eyebrow, leading him inside. "Well then, where to Mr. Bass?"

Chuck eyed the wine bottle in her hand. "Wherever you want, Ms. Waldorf."

"Perfect," She answered, pressing a random floor. Blair bent to place the bottle in the corner as she pulled the emergency stop knob and started undoing the buttons on his jacket with a wry grin.

She knew, as he placed kisses down the curve of her neck, that this was the beginning of something more than either of them knew.

By the time her skin was flush against his, she had completely forgotten about anything but the sound of his breathing and the rhythm of their heartbeats as his hand trailed down her side.

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A/N: So this is me trying to "flex" my fluff muscle in regards to CB while trying my hardest to keep in context with the characters. If you like it take the time to review so that I know you want me to continue with these!


	2. Her and her loverboy

A/N: A billion and one thank-you's to everyone who reviewed, even if it was just a word or two. You guys are seriously the reason I'm continuing with this. I hope you like it!

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Always falling into you.

I wish that we could give it a go,  
See if we could be something.  
I wish you'd hold my hand when I was upset.  
- Kate Nash

Everything Blair knew had dissolved into little more than a discarded wish by Monday. Her minions easily taking on a new queen without so much as a backward glance.

The shape of Nate's shoulders as he had walked away from her was imprinted on her eyelids. The melody of Serena's voice as she cooed some bullshit about everything turning out just fine

To Blair everything was indecipherable, like a foreign language barely translated.

When she wasn't in class she escaped to the bathroom. She ate her lunch there, like one of the social rejects whose last season Prada left them condemned to the solidarity of a bathroom stall in the girls' lavatory.

She kept her head low, barely speaking when spoken to. By the end of the day it was lesser than difficult to avoid the gaze of every person who snickered when she walked past, whispering quickly behind cupped hands.

Chuck was leaning against the limo as she skipped down the front steps, his expression unreadable. He was a blank slate, the broken toy she wanted anyway.

Nate's honest actions had always been pinned like badges across his breast and she had been under the spell of her fairytale then, drunk with it, lusting. She hadn't even noticed when her dreams took on new shapes, directed solely by what others wanted, complying because she had been born to do so.

With Chuck however, the darkness of his movements as he guided her into the car, she could just be ... Blair. Whatever that meant.

There were still so many layers of conditioning she needed to scrub away, pick off the impressions of compliance her mother had pressed on her from birth, but no longer was she simply what the Waldorf name stood for. There was a girl behind there somewhere. He had told her that, or at least helped her to show herself that night at Victrola.

The silence was louder than the rain as it thrashed against the windows, His arm stretched across her back as she curled into his chest. He smelt of after-shave and alcohol, the most unassuming prince charming.

Tears began to slide down her cheeks, wetting her eyelashes and causing her mascara to stick. It was ridiculous to cry over spilled milk, her mother had always said, but she would anyway. The spoonful of yogurt little J had poured into her chestnut curls, Nate's smug grin as he watched, telling her without moving that she deserved it.

Chuck's thumb paused on her cheek, after her sobs quieted, wiping at the subsiding tears. She bent her chin towards his hand with a heavy sigh. He didn't patronize her, offer false comfort; he was simply there, able-bodied and observant but not pushy.

All the unheard gossip drifting in the air, bits and pieces of the truth stacked into piles, the idea alone causing her head to throb. What had she been thinking? Grasping the edges of her past by letting the familiarities of Nate's face guide her between the bed sheets. It had been done to forget that she wanted more, to convince herself that she wasn't yearning for someone else. She had prayed to feel what Chuck provoked in her as Nate's tongue dipped into her mouth, but she hadn't. Still, the resistance to her feelings had been just as strong, sleeping with him anyway. If only to spite the brooding brunette, to show him that she wasn't enticed or as lost in him as she truly was.

It hadn't worked.

"I'm so sorry Chuck," She knew he was still hurting. "I was -- I was just trying to forget."

"About?" He was so close, his lips in the folds of her curls, she could barely focus.

"Us. I thought, I don't know, I always thought it was Nate. Always Nate." She laughed dryly. How stupid she had been, naive. "I couldn't let it go easily."

Honesty. He needed to know the truth, the reality of her actions. It wouldn't erase them but it was better to try and explain than leave the freedom of silence to pour salt on open wounds.

"And now?" It was barely audible, rough words pressed through cracked lips.

"Now," She snuggled into his side, "I know that it's you. Always you."

Chuck bent forward, his breath hot on her ear, encircling her entire body in his arms. Solid. "I forgive you."

Ever since Blair could remember she had been fractured, pieces of herself threatening to fall off but with his arms around her she was whole in a new way. Flawed but not broken.

The mid-afternoon traffic was a gentle melody as the limo glided down the street. Chuck Bass, the man whose lips fell against hers in fluid motions, decidedly much more than any other boy she knew. Much, much more.


	3. Away we go

A/N: I normally don't update this consistently and fast! I originally wrote this in Blair's POV but later went back and re-wrote the entire thing from Chuck's POV, I feel like I need to give him a little bit of a voice in these things. Thanks to everyone who has favorited, alerted and reviewed. Review more please if you have some time! I'm seriously addicted (:

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The city of lights for the city of dreams.

She hid around corners and she hid under beds  
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled  
With every bubble she sank with her drink  
And washed it away down the kitchen sink  
- Florence and the Machine

Chuck glanced down the empty hall, his eyes cast on the shadows emerging from Blair's bedroom, the door slightly ajar.

She hadn't been in class for almost two weeks, Eleanor was still traipsing through Europe and, quite frankly, he was getting tired of Dorota's broken English and cryptic excuses every time he called.

It was the reason for which Chuck had called the limo to pick him up at two o'clock in the afternoon. It was also why Madame Weston (how clearly French of her) had attempted to give him detention when he stood up, merely to leave. Of course he was quite in the middle of a very riveting Francis langue's lesson after all, that was no more important than the bottom of his shoe.

There were more pressing matters at hand.

He crept closer to Blair's bedroom, to her - if only she had seen his spectacle, her brown eyes wide in shock. The classic rebellions of a Bass man. Then again, if she had, no reason would suffice enough to cause such a commotion in the first place.

He couldn't remember her missing this much school since her parents divorce, and of course her brief stint with chicken pox (of which no other six year old in the world lobbied to actually stay in school with.)

When Chuck was close enough, obscured not by dry wall or closed doors, the scene was startling but not unexpected. The curtains were drawn, and without the mid-afternoon sun, the room was lit sparsely by her television screen. DVD cases were strewn about the floor as well as empty chip bags and chocolate foils; he prayed she hadn't been doing what such a mess implied.

"You can't hide away forever," He said, leaning against the doorframe.

There was a beat or two of silence. "I can try," She finally responded.

"You could," He agreed, tilting his head, "But I know you won't."

Daniel Humphrey was of second rate, his sister if not less. Jenny could steal the crown but she didn't have the muscle to hold it up, the right. It wouldn't be hot in her hands and subject to her greasy head of unkempt hair for much longer.

"Do you?" She sighed, rolling around beneath her thick blankets.

Of course he did. Chuck knew this wasn't her. Blair was Parisian beauty, the scent of freshly cut flowers and silky skin, but she wasn't this. Crown or not, minions or just her, she would always truly be queen.

He squinted, sidestepping the cases and plastic bags, making his way into her presence, barely able to see her form in the darkness.

"I do," He sat down at the edge of her bed. It was a soft whisper, a light touch as his finger trailed up the mattress, pulling the blankets away from her body.

Blair pushed her curls away from her face, staring up at him. How he wanted to kiss those lips, steal away all her insecurities with one glance.

"If Jenny wants it then she can have it," Blair stated. "The crown, Penelope, Nelli-Yuki -- their not worth having."

He quirked his lips. Sometimes he thought she might pretend he didn't know her as well as he did. To Blair, although he didn't quite understand it, being queen of Constance was the way in which she controlled her life. Eleanor and Harold were always urging her to be more, to be better and obviously (as revealed by her bulimia) Blair thought she was just subject to their opinions, their needs and wants but not her own.

To her, ruling the Upper East Side was the simplistic way of exerting effort into a reputation she'd built on her own. In having complete control. She wanted it, yearned to be loved and hated, she would rather chew nails than see little J steal away with all she'd worked for.

"Blair," He brought his hand to her chin, "What exactly do you take me for?"

She mumbled something and then laughed. Chuck was interested. "A motherchucker," She admitted.

It wasn't the worst he had been called by any length but he didn't know whether he should be flattered or mildly insulted at her PG play on words.

"I made it up," She explained, "Just now, don't you like it?" Her eyes drifted towards the television. He didn't have to look to know that it was one of Audrey Hepburn's earlier movies. If Blair had taught nothing else, Nate and Chuck would always be able to tell what Hepburn movie was playing by the first second and a half of the opening credits.

"Obviously," He frowned. If it took this to make her laugh, to see that smile, he would allow it. However, it wouldn't stop him from playing the insulted and upset card.

She swatted at his arm, almost knocking over a pitcher of water on her nightstand. He grabbed the handle just in time to steady it.

"Oh Chuck," She grinned, "I'm only joking." Blair pulled him into her, curling her hand around his head. He pressed his lips against hers softly. She tasted of cheetos and expensive dark chocolate; it was then that he knew she'd been frequenting the bathroom. His jaw set.

"You need to fight for it," He said. "You're the rightful queen Blair. Don't tell me that you're willing to let _little J _take over the empire."

"Would you want me any less," She asked, the edges of her words brittle, "If I was?"

"No," He laid down beside her, peeling off his shoes. "But I know you're not."

She raked her fingernails through his hair, he closed his eyes. He would never admit it, but he loved the feeling of her tiny frame pressed against his chest, as close as she could be. He could protect her here, need her and she would return his affection with everything she had.

"I can't just buy back public favor," She sighed. "My legacy has been ruined by my own hands."

Blair always projected strength, indifference, a breed of bitchiness hardly seen past Madison Avenue, but it frightened Chuck to think of how fragile she truly was, beneath the weathered skin of her hardships, craving the acceptance her mother had never quite given her.

It was this woman he worried for, the one curled in a ball, her long legs wrapped in her thin arms. The rose colored negligee crumpled at her thigh. He couldn't say it, he didn't want to upset her, cause a wrinkle in her brow, but he wished he could.

For the first time in his life, Chuck Bass cared enough about one girl in this world to be sick with her troubles. Her interests had started to overshadow his own. He wanted to whisk her away, give her something else to think of aside from the empty spaces between caught moments. "Would you consider something?" He asked.

She looked into his eyes, her cheeks pink around the edges. He felt her stretch, her muscles elongating as she unfurled her body. "What?"

He treaded on a half-formed thought, "Let's go."

"Chuck," She groaned, throwing her hands above her head, "I don't want to go to your suite right now. I'm perfectly happy here."

He shook his head. Manhattan, with Constance Billiard and Nate Archibald was the last place he'd think to chain her too. "I mean, lets get away" He breathed, his arm sliding around her hip, "To Paris ... together."

It was the only thing he could think of. Maybe if she had time away then the stress would swirl down the drain. She could come back, ready and willing to overthrow the provisional queen and take her rightful place.

"When?"

"Now," He breathed into her shoulder blades. She pulled back, pearly teeth behind ruby lips.

"Seriously?" She laughed. "We can't just go ... can we?" The idea seemed foreign to her. As if she couldn't imagine going anywhere with him, like he would withdrawal the idea from beneath her feet without so much as an explanation.

Three months ago he might have but now .... his heart beat faster at the thought of having her all to himself for a few days. Blair made him more of a man than his father could have taught him to be, than he ever dreamed he could be.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I chartered a flight a couple of hours ago."

Blair shot up, stumbling to her feet. She hurled a pillow at him. "You planned this?" Her tone edging on hysteria. He thought she would be surprised but not abusive, if there was one place in the world she needed - it was Paris. The city of love.

"Not entirely. Why, you don't want to go?" He propped himself on his elbow.

She pulled at her necklace, moving the diamond along it's chain. Her brunette curls hung around her neck in clumps and the negligee had dropped across her thighs. She was beautiful.

"Paris?" She bit her lip, "With you? But I'm not packed," She quirked her lips.

"Is that a yes?"

She flung herself onto him, peppering his face in kisses. "Yes, I'll go with you Chuck." She laughed again, the lightness falling around them in mounds. "But I have to pack so ... you're kicked out," She talked into his lips, "For the time being."


	4. All we've known

A/N: This is a little short but I'm just trying to update regularily (consider it short and sweet) a bit of a glimpse into somewhat of the next 2ish chapters. Let me know what you think, review please! I want to thank everyone that's been reviewing me so far. You guys are fantastic (you know who you are :D) and I wouldn't be continuing with this if it weren't for you.

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Beaux Commencements.  
(Beautiful Beginnings)

I'm falling, falling for you  
My feelings are getting stronger  
So why don't you stay here with me for a little longer?  
- Imogen heap

Through the oval window of the Bass jet Paris was a switchboard of beauty beneath them. The soft edges of the city pressed down by the rising sun, a projection of magnificent colour on every surface the milky rays of light touched.

She pulled the brim of her hat downward, guarding the Chanel luggage as Chuck bartered with (and eventually convinced) an off duty limo driver to escort them into the city. He sauntered over, gesturing her towards the sleek black car. She yawned, covering her mouth with a laced hand, the wide-rimmed Dior sunglasses sliding down her pale nose.

They slid into the backseat together, a rush of jet-leg and champagne. She rested her head against Chuck's shoulder as the car weaved through early morning traffic, the glittering skyline piercing her thoughts. She had slept seldom on the flight and although it was ten in the morning there it was little past four in the morning in New York.

"Tired?" Chuck asked, his gaze locked on the passing buildings, the beauty of a foreign country.

She shook her head, eyelids heavy with the promise of sleep, "Just a little."

He had refused to tell her where they were staying, murmuring something earlier about a surprise. She was too preoccupied with lethargy to stir up the exact words spoken but she was torn between worry and excitement to an unusual extent. The mysteries her lover would introduce her to with a sly grin.

She managed to fight the call of rest as far as a quaint little bistro nestled somewhere in the city when she fell into a dreamless sleep. She woke momentarily only when Chuck draped her hands around his shoulders and lifted her into his arms, carrying her (she assumed) into their hotel room.

When she rolled over, sunlight streaming through glass, Blair groaned and reached towards her beside table. Her fingers searched frantically for the stupid alarm clock that had been buzzing obnoxiously for the last minute. She wasn't going to school today either, Dorota could just yell at her in Polish until she lost her voice!

"Blair," Chuck murmured in her ear, "Wake up."

Every muscle in her body clenched, waiting for the moment of realization to wash over her. As slowly as the films dissolved, fresh memories fell back into place. The long flight, the darkness of the hotel room when she'd woken in the middle of the night, the angle of the light as it hit the canary coloured walls.

She nuzzled into his bare chest, breathing him in, it felt like ages since she'd been in his embrace. Chuck pulled her close, his hand on her hip, hair mused from hours beneath silk bed sheets. She was still in her McCartney dress, the black hat she'd worn on the flight splayed on the table across the bedroom.

"Bonjour," She cleared her throat, "Mon amont." This spurred trip was after all, the perfect opportunity to dust off her sharp edged French.

There was no school to avoid or hollow embarrassments to forget. She laughed, falling back onto the pillows with a dreamy sigh. She was free.

She stood up, brushing lint off her dress as she danced through the room, stopping in front of the glass wall. Her brown eyes widened in disbelief at the view, they must have been on the second story of an estate because the backyard boasted first-class snooping into the intricate designs of the Eiffel tower, separated only by the seine. It was lovely and so close that she could almost reach out and touch it.

"Oh Chuck, it's absolutely gorgeous!" She squealed.

He dropped a hand to the small of her back, his tongue flicking at her earlobe with his tongue.

She twirled, meeting his gaze with a frenzied kiss, "thank-you."

He smirked in response, his hand travelling down her thigh and towards her calves.

In a matter of seconds, Blair's legs were wrapped tightly around his hips, hot breath on the curve of her neck as she slid down his pants. He pressed her back against the cool glass, her hands knotted in his hair. And, as he entered her, swallowing her cries, she realized that this was home, wherever he was.

His hands curved around her collarbone, making love as they did in the belly of the city, twilight clouds drifting above and into distances neither of them could imagine.


	5. In the realm of diluted meaning

A/N: Hello! Thanks to everyone whose been reviewing this. You're all spectacular! Reviews are always loved and appreciated (and read repeatedly in some cases) so if you got some time please click that little button at the very bottom and leave me some feedback :) I have the next chapter (almost) ready to go ... happy reading!

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If you were to leave and fulfill someone else's dreams  
I think I might totally be lost  
- Dallas Green

Paris in May was a humid ball of heavy air and bursts of misty afternoon rain. In it's own way it was lovely and irritating all at once. Currently, it was ridiculously annoying. Every inch of Blair's skin was hot as she pulled her ponytail away from her neck, fanning her cheeks with a stray piece of paper.

It had been almost a month since they'd landed in the capital and it was on days like this, the weather so similar to late June in New York, when Blair caught herself thinking of home. With a frustrated sigh she picked up her pen, rolling it between her fingers.

Dorota, as loyal as she was, had mailed a fair chunk of notes, work and tests that were meant to be completed by the weeks end. And, as Blair sat in the living room of the quaint hotel room on a Thursday, she slowly began looping her cursive across the page. It was difficult to keep her eyes on the print in the biology textbook on her lap.

The rain was an allusion; it brought little more than puddles and damp grass to the flowers. Other than that the heat remained. Droplets trickled down the windowpanes in a dramatically loud way, the sound echoing off the walls and hitting Blair from every angle. She feigned interest in a spec of dust that crawled across the floor. There wasn't anything to do when Chuck was busy with work, his quiet whispers behind closed doors.

Then as if he had read her mind, he appeared in the room, cutting the distance between them in long strides. He fell onto the couch behind her and she rested her head on his chest, thankful for the distraction.

She felt him pick up a strand of her hair, bringing it to his lips. Her heart fluttered.

"Eleanor called," He murmured, almost as though he hoped she wouldn't hear him.

"When?" She asked. Her father had been calling almost every hour in hopes to see her while she was in the country... Eleanor hadn't done anything.

"Last night," His chin rested on her ear. "You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"Good," She nodded, "I'm not taking her calls." Or anyone's really for that matter.

Chuck exhaled deeply, she felt his ribcage expand and contract underneath her. "It's been a month," He said.

"I'm enjoying myself and I don't want to ruin it."

It had been why she'd simply rejected her father's calls, Serena's chipper voicemails, the one email Nate had sent with mega prompting from a certain blonde (Blair supposed.) If she talked to one of them then she'd have to speak to them all, return to the reality of everything.

He shook his head, "It puts a damper on the festivities when I know you're not really _here_."

She sat up quickly, turning towards him. "I am here," She defended, "All of me."

His breath stuck to her flesh, her shoulder blades. His eyes focused on hers as he lowered his eyelashes.

"You know what I mean," He whispered. "You've been brooding for two days in all this effort to avoid people who aren't even in the same country as you."

"I have not been _brooding_," She hated him for assuming that she did any such stupid, lame thing. "In case you haven't noticed I've got three thousand hours worth of work ahead of me. Besides, they don't matter as much to me as this does." She looked at him, smiling gingerly.

He leaned back on the cushions. "Don't say that ever, not even about me." Chuck's words were sharp, serious, "Of course they do."

It was almost impossible to read him sometimes. "Ugh, but I just --" She threw her hands up in the air.

"Don't want to deal with it right now," He finished the thought. "I know, but I don't want to see you pushing everyone away."

She frowned. He was being ridiculous to assume that she was doing any such thing.

"I thought we were going out," was her attempt at changing the subject, "or are you planning on interrogating me more?"

"Probably," He half-smiled. "Just tell me that you'll call Serena, if no one else, when we get back."

She rolled her eyes, letting the sound of the rain fill the silent gaps between them.

"It's in yo--"

"My best interest," She scoffed. "You know, you're not in any position to bargain Bass. Last I checked," She ran a hand up his neck; "You and Nate weren't exactly trading lunchables."

She knotted her hands through his mussed hair, gently pulling him towards her. Chuck looked away, hurt just as she was at the mention of Archibald's name.

"Nate and I aren't friends anymore," He replied coldly.

"You're being just as childish as I am."

"He threw me against my _own_ limo, gave me a black eye and then left." Chuck bit out the words angrily, his brow furrowed.

She brought him closer still, her lips against his cheekbone. "So you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were in his position?"

Chuck was still enough that she could hear his breathing. "I watched you together, I listened to everyone talk about you, I was your secret and then you left me too."

It was the wrong move. She had dragged up old, useless attempts made by the Blair who had danced, without thought; to the man she'd convinced herself she wanted.

"But I don't love Nate," She protested "And he doesn't love me." It was all she could think to say, it was the truth, as solid and clean as it could be. There had never been much between them but the stale ideas of protective parents.

"All that matters is," She continued, "that I came back to _you ..._" She kissed him softly, "and that you let me."

"Call Serena," He breathed, resisting her advances.

"Will you kiss me back if I say yes?" She teased.

"I'll do more than that Waldorf," He growled. The intensity of the moment had drawn away.

"I will then I suppose," She promised. The uneasiness lifted from her words as Chuck rolled her onto the floor.

The next few hours passed in a blur of flesh and lips. The crinkle of the bed sheets creating its own rhythm against the heat of spring months. Blair's homework was left forgotten on the couch, proudly bearing a textbook nearly ripped to pieces and a cushion or two split down the seam. Such was the reoccurring themes of a Waldorf and a Bass, quite the unexpected pairing.


	6. Chuck and Blair

You're my ... what?

Troy Dyer: You can't nagivage me. I may do mean things and I may hurt you, and I may run away without your permission, and you may hate me forever, and I know that scares the living shit out of you because you know I'm the only real thing you've got.

Chuck Bass could rarely think of a time in his life when he'd felt truly content. Up until now little regard had been held for the buttery flies of attraction that everyone claimed would fly about in one's stomach. They were signs of a certain inevitable and very permanent desire that he had done everything to avoid. Existing within one night stands and fleeting encounters was a lifestyle rather than a series of choices. The simple truth was that women never held his attention much longer than they could physically hold his body in their hands.

If he had learned it anywhere it was through the constant and yet discreet, love affairs of his father.

Bart Bass, the crisp corners of expensive suits and a gravelly voice that boomed throughout any room. Chuck had always considered his womanizing nature a bridge to fill the gaps. If neither man had anything else in common aside from basic DNA, that they had.

Childhood days in the Bass household had begun with breakfast, often alone in the grand dining-room and almost always ended with tangled lullabies under starched sheets. The coos were always broken words and awkward gestures of several nannies who saw the tiny boy, void of his families love, trying to treat him as their own. It had never worked.

All Chuck could recall of his father during his early years were walls of newspaper and golden cufflinks. The mention of overseas business was more frequent than conversation or interest in his young son and then one day he would be gone as quick as he had come.

Still, he had been desperate for his father's approval then, neck craned as he struggled to catch glimpses of the man who shared the same sharp jaw and muddy eyes he did. Even now, the weight of expectation remained in every inch of Bart's stare. But, Chuck was no longer shamed by the disappointment that trailed after anymore, only bored by it.

With Blair however, the simple fact that she expected nothing more from him than what he could give, made him want to conquer the world. Stand atop it triumphantly. And, the buttery flies - pesky attractions that thrashed about his stomach, were no longer drowned in alcohol.

If anything they were embraced. Reasons enough for his hand to linger a little longer on hers, for the kiss to deepen, the silent smiles and bashful stares to stretch just slightly further across the table.

Just then, piercing his film of thought, Blair sauntered onto the balcony, draping herself over his lap. He rounded his arms across her backless dress, inhaling the perfume that lingered on her skin, fresh apples and lilies. He pressed his lips to the hollow curve of her neck.

Time slowed and sped up as they sat, eyes fixed on the Eiffel tower, the colourful buildings of landscaped architecture poaching the clouds.

She traced her finger along his wrist, pulling up the sleeve. And, after a while she turned slightly, enough for Chuck to see her profile, lips in a thin line. He waited on her words, tightening his hold, knowing then that she wanted to say something.

The right side of her face was lit by the milky glow of the crescent moon.

"What is this?" She whispered, a beat passed. "What are we?" and then she slipped from his grasp and glided towards the railing. A curtain of brunette curls falling in her face. "I mean, I need to know - no, I have to know what this is because if I don't then I might make it into something it's not and I'd rather spare myself the hurt."

The words were rushed. The meanings were thought-out enough that when she finally turned to him, the plains of her face begging for explanation, Chuck was speechless.

In true Waldorf fashion she had been hiding her feelings, watering down her insecurities. But, he reminded himself, this was Blair and she always needed all the pieces.

He opened his mouth, awkwardly closing it when he realized there was nothing he could say. All the appropriate words had escaped him.

The ties that bound her to him would remain escapable if he didn't do anything, something. She was the only thing that mattered, he couldn't drive her away.

Her delicate features skewed as she watched him, trying to taste the air, absorb his thoughts without their obvious presence.

"What? You can' tell me..." She prompted, "I'm not going to freak out. You asked me to come with you and I willingly followed, I know that." She was pacing now. Not meaning what she said, he could tell by the hysterical tinge in her voice.

Couldn't she see that he was the one who would always be following her? Blair could lead him to the ends of the Earth and he would trail after her, always.

Yet, his mouth was try and his thoughts were spinning. He couldn't coax a single syllable off his tongue.

She frowned, turning away. He heard her sigh, a deep exhale and then she ran back into the bedroom without another word.

Chuck groaned, rubbing at his eyes as the bathroom door slammed. After a few seconds and a couple murmured words, he stood up, shaking the tension from his shoulders.

He had never really learned this, how to be with a woman. Bart had only ever told him how best to keep from being vulnerable nut, everything in a real relationship called for that weakness to be brought into light. It was the true meaning of love, to be flawed and still wanted.

Chuck knocked his fists against the door, his limbs heavy. "Could you just listen to me for a minute?"

Silence.

"Please Blair?" He was begging now, feeling every bit useless and horrible.

Hours seemed to pass in just a few seconds by the time the door creaked open. Blair held her chin high, the tear tracts underneath her eyes smudged black, the beautiful heart-shaped face. He grabbed her wrists, walking them both onto the terrace once more, his lungs filling with the brisk evening air.

He swallowed hard. "I --"

She held up her hand, silencing him. "I get it, you're _Chuck Bass, _I don't need the speech."

She had it all wrong. "No," He insisted, "You don't."

"What is there to get then?" She pulled her hands out of his, shifting her weight. "You think I didn't know that coming into this?" She deadpanned. "This was a gamble anyway." Blair mouthed something he couldn't make out.

His breath hitched, a swarm of buttery flies spewing inside his mouth, words seemed next to impossible. It was now or never.

"Blair, this isn't a fling and it's not whatever you think I think it is." The last rays of sunlight as they dipped behind blue clouds shone down on the city. "If I said we were a couple it wouldn't be true because that's not us. We're not what everyone else ... you're the only wo--" If this is what tongue-tied and tripped up meant then he definitely didn't enjoy it. "I really care about you and I think - I think that I need you."

When his pathetic swooning address was over he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair nervously. It was the most devotion he had ever expressed or even wanted to express, in the entirety of his life. Her expression was blank, her hands locked into fists. He said finally, "We're just Chuck and Blair, what other way could we describe this?"

Slowly she came back to life, mouthing the words, fitting them between her Cupid bow lips. Chuck and Blair.

He watched, judging the moment, wanting to fill the emptiness between them with something more. There couldn't be anything else to say. Carefully she unclenched her fists and her muscles seemed to relax as though she were allowing herself to process the drifting words.

Chuck caught her in his arms, her breath against his chest, steady.

They weren't there yet but it was the most he could to do promise her that they were going somewhere and not just aimlessly holding onto each other for the sake of it.

No, this meant something – everything.


End file.
